Dancing On The Ceiling
by flashpenguin
Summary: After ringing in the New Year with the team the night before, Emily and Hotch decide to have a private celebration the morning after. Heavy T rating.
1. Chapter 1

_Just a quick Hotch/Emily two-shot. After ringing in the New Year with the team the night before, they decide to have their own private celebration in the morning after. _

_I don't own Criminal Minds._

_Song Prompt: "Dancing On The Ceiling" by Lionel Richie_

**Dancing On The Ceiling**

Emily Prentiss rolled over with a groan as she tried to escape the spotlight on her face. But no matter how hard she tried, there was no way to avoid the bright light. Pulling the pillow over her head, she started to settle when a soft chuckle caused her to pause.

Lifting the corner, she cracked open an eye to see what had made that sound. Blinking rapidly to correct her fuzzy vision, it dawned on her that it was not a what, but a who…and that who happened to be Aaron Hotchner.

Sitting up quickly, Emily felt her world begin to spin out of control as her stomach roiled in protest. Groaning low, she lay back against the pillow and took a few deep breaths.

"Hotch," she whispered as loud as her throbbing head would allow, "what the hell are you doing here?"

"Well, good morning to you, too, Emily," he greeted with another chuckle. "I take it you are not feeling up to par this bright and beautiful morning."

"Could you not shout?" she asked. "My head is about to explode."

"After last night, I'm surprised it hasn't," Hotch observed and rolled over to sit on the edge of the bed.

"What did I do?" She tried to remember the previous night's events, but her brain could only pull up bits and pieces.

Hotch got thoughtful. "Tequila shots, two whiskey sours, and a pineapple amaretto," he replied.

"Uggghhh," she groaned. "Pineapple amaretto? What was I, drunk?"

"That was the general consensus…especially when you started dancing on the bar."

Emily opened one eye. "No I didn't."

He nodded. "Something about wanting to imitate 'Dancing On The Ceiling'. Fred Astaire can rest in peace that you haven't taken his gig. "

She covered her face in her hands. "Oh God! Tell me that Strauss wasn't there!"

Hotch considered her request. "I could…but I would be lying." Her cry of anguish made him snort. "You sure know what you are doing. Especially with that kick turn number."

"Tell me that I kept my shirt on."

"Barely. But I think you made a couple hundred in tips for the last dance on the bar."

"You're kidding me!"

"I'm a federal officer and bound to tell the truth."

"Oh God!" she groaned and pulled the pillow over her head.

Hotch went over to the dresser and grabbed his cell phone. Sitting back down on the bed, he clicked on the images. "Do you want to see the pictures?" he asked with a slight smirk.

Emily froze. "The what?" She sat up despite her body's protests.

"Pictures." He turned the screen toward her. "See?" He flashed a picture of the previous night's party. "There's JJ and Dave waving at the camera." He clicked the button. "There's Reid sitting off in the corner reading a book." Another click. "Oh…that's not a good one of Strauss. Neither is that one. What exactly do you call this move Morgan is doing?" He flashed the picture quickly.

"You're lying," Emily whispered.

"I thought you didn't want to see."

"Ugh, since you have the phone containing the incriminating evidence of my inability to hold my liquor…I may as well see. Then I can start negotiations."

"Blackmailing me?" Hotch inquired in mock surprise. "You do realize that that is a federal offense?"

"So is murder," she replied. Shooting him a look, she moved to grab the phone.

Hotch easily moved away from her grasp. "Not nice."

"Let me see, please," she begged.

"Why?"

"So, I know what to expect when I get into work on Monday." Moving quickly, she grabbed the phone.

"Hey!" Hotch protested. "Give it back!" He reached for the phone, lost his balance and fell on top of her. He tried not to think of her breasts pressed against his chest as he tried to get the phone back.

"No way! You have the picture and I want to see it." She tried to avoid his grasp as her fingers clicked thru the saved images. "Oh no! Tell me that isn't me!" She tried to close her eyes to erase the image.

"It's you." Hotch took the phone back and snapped it shut. "Satisfied?"

"No." She took a couple of deep breaths. "You can get off of me now."

His face was inches from hers. "Why?" he challenged.

Instead of answering, she changed the subject. "Tell me why you're here in my bedroom?"

"You were too wasted to drive, so I got us a cab."

"Thanks. So, why didn't you head home after doing your civic duty?" His face was so close. She tried to ignore it.

"Because I was a little tipsy myself so I left my car at the hotel."

"You could have taken a taxi back."

"I could have," he agreed, "but after what you consumed last night, I wanted to make sure you were okay."

Emily shifted under Hotch's weight. "What about Jack?"

"Jessica is taking care of him."

"You could have been home with him last night to celebrate New Year's."

"He's only five; New Year's doesn't mean much to him other than the fireworks…which he always sleeps thru." Hotch looked her in the eye. "Besides, you needed me more."

"Thanks." She took in that Hotch was still dressed, sans his government issued shoes. "Did you sleep in that?"

"Yes."

"I thought the rumours of you sleeping in your suit were just that," she observed lightly, but her blood ran hot.

"I was a guest. Besides, I thought the shock of me being in your bed would be bad enough without seeing me in my boxers."

"Boxers? Really? I figured you for the 'in the buff' kind of guy." Her hand clamped over her mouth the moment the words were out.

"I am," he replied softly.

"You're what?"

"I sleep in the buff." His eyes danced with amusement at her reaction.

"Oh." Emily tried to occupy her thoughts with something other than the mental image of her boss sleeping in his birthday suit.

Hotch dipped his head down and kissed her neck. "What's wrong? You don't believe me?"

"Well…" Emily looked at him, then at the floor. "I thought you couldn't surprise me anymore." She forced a small smile. "But you did."

"Good." He crooked a finger under her chin. "Why Agent Prentiss, I think you're blushing."

"I'm not."

"Yes you are," he corrected. Lowering his lips to hers, he covered her mouth for a deep kiss. Moaning in her throat, Emily moved closer to him. As his tongue begged for entrance, she parted her lips to grant him better access.


	2. Chapter 2

_Part two is up. I was challenged to write a hot and heavy sex scene that could burn the town down - but it could not be vulgar. I hope that I have lived up to expectations. This chapter has been rated a "Heavy T"._

_Dedicated to Michaela, Alii, and Fra._

_I don't own Criminal Minds._

**_Song Prompt: "Dancing On The Ceiling" by Lionel Richie_**

**Dancing On The Ceiling**

Wrapping his arms around her shoulders, Hotch felt a shiver go thru his body. He had dreamt of kissing Emily Prentiss a million times before but never thought it would happen…until a Lionel Richie song and liquor gave him a foot in the door. Moving his lips from hers to trail down her neck, he tried to remember that he was still in charge despite what his body was saying.

"Hotch?" Emily asked as Hotch's mouth moved against her skin - tasting, licking and nipping…causing an electric tingle through out her body.

"Hmm?"

"I have to take a shower," she replied but didn't move away. Her eyes closed in ecstasy as his hand dipped inside the opening of her blouse and cupped her breast.

"Okay."

"I mean like now."

"Do you know what my New Year's resolution was this year?" he mouthed against her neck.

"No idea," she breathed.

"To stop being a stoic hard ass." He pulled back to look at her.

"That's a good resolution," she agreed.

He unbuttoned his dress shirt. "Starting now." He dropped the shirt on the floor, quickly followed by his slacks. Emily's eyes widened. "What's wrong?"

She licked her lips. "I was wrong about the boxers." She swallowed hard. "Hotch…"

"What is your New Year's resolution?" he whispered as his hands slowly stroked her.

Screw the hang-over messing with her senses, Hotch was slowly killing off what few brain cells she had left. Shaking her head, she tried to gather her thoughts.

"I don't make resolutions," she confessed as his body rubbed against hers. His erection pulsated against her thigh.

"No way." He unbuttoned the blouse and kissed the curve of her breast. "Maybe I can change your mind."

"Good…luck…oh!" she moaned as his mouth closed over a rosy nipple. Arching into him, she weaved her fingers into his hair. Greedily, he sucked as he continued to touch her. "Hotch…"

Moving his hand down, he unfastened the snap of her slacks and dipped his hand inside. Moving across her flat abdomen, he brushed his fingers against the scrap of material covering her. "Thong?" he teased before pushing her slacks down. Throwing them to the floor, he looked at her.

"Did I tell you that you said that you wanted me?" he asked and stroked her with an expert finger. Arching her hips up, she moved against him.

"No," she hissed. "Are you sure?"

"Drunks never lie. Or did you forget that in your profiling training?" Parting her thighs, he dipped his head down. And Emily felt herself nearly die. It was too unreal what he was doing to her but she was helpless to do anything but dig her nails into the mattress and cry out loud.

Hotch wondered why it had taken last night to discover the real Emily Prentiss, but now that he had her, he was going to make sure that he took his time discovering every single solitary inch of her beautiful body. As his tongue worked its magic o her, his hands continued to fondle. As he touched her from the inside out, he felt her tense up as her hips tried to keep up with him.

"Oh…"she cried out. "Oh God! Ah…ah…Aar…Aaron…" she tried to speak, but her brain wasn't working. Everything was short circuiting and her body was begging for release. Faster he pushed her toward the edge of no return.

"Come on Em…" he begged against her, his tongue working in tandem with his fingers. "Come on…"

Then it happened - her body went straight as the first wave of a mind shattering orgasm tore her in two and then put her back together.

Coming back to reality, she tried to catch her breath, but couldn't. He had done something to her no other man ever had. Her body still throbbed from the climax as she opened her eyes to look at him.

"That was amazing," she breathed.

"I see." Lying on his back, he pulled her toward him.

"What are you doing?" she asked as her body straddled his.

"The other part of my resolution. I have decided to let a woman take charge once in a while." He thrust his hips upward to tease her. A soft sigh escaped her lips as her head dropped down to kiss him. Gentle at first, she opened her mouth and deepened it until they both broke away for air.

Cupping her breasts thru the bra, Hotch gripped them gently. Moving her hands up, she went to unfasten the clasp when he stopped her. "No. Keep it on." Ducking his head down, he took the nipple in his mouth again and let his tongue tease it until she cried out loud. "Now," he ordered and moved her down to where he was waiting.

Casting a glance downward, Emily grasped him in her hand and heard his sharp hiss. Then slowly she guided him inch by excruciating inch into the wet heat of her core. Filling her, Hotch ordered himself to hold on. He had waited too long to end it now.

Moving her hips against him - slow at first - she picked up the pace. He had put her in control and she wasn't going to give it up. As his hands caressed her, she tried to push him to the same edge he had taken her. Lifting up, she lowered herself and took satisfaction from the way his head thrashed on the pillow. So, she did it again.

"Emily," he bit out as he tried to hold on.

"Come on Hotch," she taunted, her face mere inches from his. As he went to speak, she covered his mouth and tangled his tongue with hers. Thrusting into his mouth, she heard him gasp with surprise. Then she matched the motion with her hips.

As Emily's tongue warred against his, he grasped her hips and held her as he ground his pelvis against her. Hearing her sharp intake of breath, he thrust upward - fast and hard - and she had no choice but to go with him. Riding him, she tried not to lose her mind as he touched her with his hands, mouth, and body.

Gripping him hard as her body started to go over the edge, she knew she had him right where she wanted him.

"Emily…" he panted, his body covered with sweat.

"Come on Aaron." With a twist of her hips, she took pleasure from his cry of release. Then she gasped and threw her head back as her body tensed then dissolved as she followed him over the precipice.  
*

Feeling as though her body had turned to jell-o, Emily lay on Hotch's chest and tried to catch her breath. She had had her world rocked on more than one occasion in her life-time, but what just transpired between her and Hotch not only rocked it, but knocked it off its axis. Feeling his hand on her hair, she closed her eyes.

"You're still alive," he remarked.

"Barely." Picking her head up, she looked into his brown eyes and felt her heart go into free fall. "Aaron, is it too late to make a resolution? Because if it isn't, I want to make sure that we keep doing…this."

Hotch kissed her hard. "As long as you keep calling me 'Aaron', you got yourself a deal. This is one helluva way to ring in the New Year."

"Better late than never," Em whispered.

"Agreed. Unless you want to tell me how to do that kick turn."

"I'd rather show you," she murmured against his lips.

"Deal," he replied before rolling her over to her back and taking them to their own fireworks display.


End file.
